That smile you had. It matched your eyes, which stared vehemently and felt vigorously. You were all upright, all charming, artistic glances and words through hoarse. Silent lips, expressive eyelashes,and a gait that denounced you. I loved your red yarn hair, slender and short that, despite the smallness, you insisted on holding back. To be honest, we've seen each other few times - through coincidences or bumping - but I wanted to tell you all the time: Let's get married, let's get married in a small village in Turkey, or Iceland, that nobody knows about, in which nobody is watching. And let's be just the two of us, with one another - it is fairly easy to get along when there is no world around to talk us. Let's get married somewhere small and secret of this big city.
You would not believe me, though. Or you would just not want it. Through your silence - full of words -, I didn't understand much about you. Truth is that you made sure no one would understand. You would insist: - Do not bother to understand me. To live me goes beyond any understanding. - But you were different, you were so many, an almost-everyone, an almost-everything. And I knew, I was sure you were a mystery to yourself.
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